


Grief

by masamune11



Series: What was left of us [1]
Category: Saint Seiya: The Lost Canvas, Star Wars
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, Gen, Jedi class in SW:TOR is valid in this universe okay, M/M, Mention of Manigoldo, Mention of Qui-Gon Jinn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-15
Updated: 2013-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-28 09:12:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masamune11/pseuds/masamune11
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jedi Knight Kardia pondered on the cost they had to pay when the Republic started the war. Healer Albafica wondered how much they must lose before the world started to make sense again.</p><p>And the dark side remained ever so elusive.</p><p>  <i>(Crossposted from <a href="http://rantoffireflies.tumblr.com/post/55438773211/fanfiction-grief">tumblr</a>.)</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Grief

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, this piece? This piece is a blurb. I had this idea when I was still crazed over Star Wars (especially The Old Republic) and Lost Canvas. I couldn't sleep back then, and there are times when these kind of fics were just... born.
> 
> I remembered of writing the continuation of this piece, but still can't find it anywhere in my old laptop. Maybe some day, I'll continue this fic. Uh-huh. We'll see.

The Galaxy was big.

Stars, the galaxy had always been big. The gap between each star systems were near unreachable, if not for hyperdrive technology which enable a civilization to travel past lightspeed. Yet even after many civilizations were brought nearer, together, the distance between its citizens’ hearts were still as they were—far… and unbridgeable.

Because even with how big the galaxy was, it was not enough to cover the rift made between two factions of opposing side. Two factions which equally defended similar principles… but different perspective.

The Republic had stood by its principles for more than thousands of years. It thrived on the alliance between many civilizations, upon trades and economic growth. Alas, even the great Republic was not without flaw. If it was perfect, would there not be any resistance movements? Would there be no inconsistencies? For every incompetence that was perceived by some, they—the resistance—refused to the point where vocal disagreements turned into muted opinions.

From silent whisper, turning into quiet opposition.

The galaxy was too small to host another alliance of power. Too many had opposed the Republic’s well-being and landed on status quo. And yet, when faced with how corrupt the Republic was (really, it was a matter of point of view), many desired change. A quick fix. A point to start fresh, where things were much simpler and honest. 

A war.

Because the galaxy was too small for two, and a reboot was certainly needed. It was imperative to crush everything, then build an Empire over the corpses of thousand lives.

Frankly, this was what some of the Jedi—radical Jedi of the Order—thought of the current situation. Some believed it, few stepped forward to contend the Council in this matter, and even fewer displayed act of complete defiance.

Jedi Knight Kardia was grouped to the second type of Jedi (though he aspired to be the next Qui-Gon Jinn, with his defiant personality and all). From the first day when they marched to battle, witnessing many of his comrades rejoined the Force and feeling how their lives ebbed away so swiftly, his will screamed at all the wrongs in the world. It was not fair, for both him and them—because he was a Jedi, and even with such title, he could not protect them. He was a Jedi, and yet Kardia savored the bonds which he gathered on his journey toward his Knighthood. All of those should have been enough to make him yield—to surrender.

Yet his feet kept running, his hand swiftly swung the azure blade that matched his own locks of hair at the enemies before and behind him, and the usually expressive face wrapped with concentration. He became the Jedi he was supposed to be.

It took one war to mould him into that role; a war which would not be ending soon.

A war that had sent him, once again, to the Halls of Healing within the Jedi Temple.

* * *

His day was started with blurry white, the smell of toast in the air, and permeating blandness that he was familiar with. It was easy for his weary mind to identify that he was, once again, back on the least liked room in the building, especially with the soothing forces that had been guarding the residence of this area. So, Jedi Knight Kardia woke up to the sterile air of nursery room, inside the very building that he had remembered since little: The Jedi Temple.

The Jedi Temple, he felt, was everything that represented peace and tranquility.

He blinked several times to refocus his own vision. Blurry white slowly turned sharper, forming shape that is his current holding room, which consisted of a two-seat sofa, a simple chair next to his bed (it was probably used when he was still out cold), and a vase of Nabooean flowers (he was pretty sure that it is of Nabooean origin, as he had encountered some of its flora but was not able to recall the exact name). The arrangements of those things itself indicated that he had not been alone; someone had been here, if not waiting for him before leaving the room.

Kardia slowly rose from his bed and suddenly became aware of tingling pain all over his muscle. But above all, the left part of chest ached—as though something was burning. Out of reflex, the Jedi Knight grasped his aching chest and fell back to his bed, cursing inwardly at how embarrassing this might seem.

And then he remembered that the pain was familiar, because it had sent him back to this force-forsaken halls of healing, every single time.

"Kriff," he cursed under his breath, desperately trying to hold his tone together so that no weakness would pass out of his lips. Someone was coming, after all, and the last thing that he would like to display was his momentary weakness. So when the door to his room slid open, Kardia did not spare the person standing outside another spare glance.

Kardia was too preoccupied on maintaining his pride.

The Jedi standing outside his room frowned and eventually entered the room, for he was the one with authority; Jedi Healers, after all, are the lords of Healing Wing.

"You can stop pretending, Knight Kardia," the subtle tenor voice was both threatening and soothing. For all that Kardia knew, the human, who quickly approached him at the first sight of his failing, was always full of contradictions.

The aqua hue that tinted his hair was known within the temple walls as a sign of conviction, because the bearer had long dyed his red blood hair when his master passed. Jedi Healer Albafica was a Shadow—a title of the old, granted to those who specialized in the art of saboteur and trickery—under the tutelage of his Master, Jedi Master Lugonis. With his passing, gone was the days of spying, and came another way to serve the order… as a healer.

"Healer Albafica," he mutely greeted, though flash of pain reappeared as the words left his mouth. Said man did not miss his inadvertent expression and quickly pushed him back to bed, right at his aching heart. Kardia groaned as the pain amplified significantly. His hand slowly sent healing pulses of the Force as the man tried to subdue the pain. Eventually, Kardia’s expression lightened, but it did not stop the healer from glaring at him.

"This is the third time you've ended up under my care in a single month," he scoffed, "and yet you still asked for the council to fight on the front line. I can’t even fathom to understand you."

Kardia managed a snicker, but it quickly turned into a string of coughing fits. Quickly, the pressure on his chest increased once more, along with the intensity of pulsating Force connected to his own. When he met the eyes of his healer, Albafica’s gaze softened, and Kardia noticed the weariness that dulled the soothing blue eyes. He could not believe that they were the same pair that had been around to watch his back and kept him safe in their missions together. He knew, because he saw that same haunted gaze every time he looked to the mirror.

War left no shred of innocence left from both of them.

Kardia’s lips twitched uncomfortably, then formed a tight line, “I can not see someone who is fit enough to lead the army—”

"There are others who could fight in your place, Kardia. Take some days off."

"Name someone, rose. Either they are currently on your list or dead."

Perhaps Kardia did not realize the gravity of his own words, or how they might impact the other’s mind more that it should, but it was clear that the breaking of his friend’s mental shield meant it was something in his words. Seeping from the cracks… were agonies that rivaled battlefield, where death was something they became used to. Kardia tightened his lips as he withheld any more of his impulsive attitude. The fact that he was more attuned to the Living Force was no excuse—but it was also the reason why he picked up with Albafica’s mood.

The healer was bordering on grief and despair, but he could understand his state. With so many things happening around them, it was always difficult to find some semblance of peace. But surely Albafica knew better to be more reserved with his emotional state than he was, did he not?

"Your shield is cracking," Kardia, finally tired of the silence and grief (really, he did not need any more grief that he already received; Albafica was already broadcasting), decided to break it. The man scowled as he pushed his own mind to mend his own mental shield and focused on his own task. Yet Kardia could feel the healer’s mind wander, because even when the healing power turned brighter with each pulse, Kardia felt upheaval tainted it and winced.

Dear Force, they were Knights for many reasons, but certainly not for being unable to release such emotions to the Force!

"Albafica, stop—I mean it, stop," he growled and pushed the hand away, gripping it to signify his insistence. That earned him another glare that he pushed away as quickly as it came with his own heated stare.

"You will not ask me to stop doing my job!"

The insistence made him blinked and lost his standing. Something behind his mind screamed anger—the very same emotion that fell many down the path of destruction; the path that had loomed over him, asking for his soul in exchange for eternal power.

The silent hum of the Dark Side.

Kardia knew that feeling was close, but he knew enough to quiet down and anchor himself away from the gratifying pull, for he knew that Albafica would need him later. So he restrained his heated thoughts behind tightened mental shield (and hoped that the other did not sense the stretch he must endure) and released his emotion slowly, into the Force. Perhaps Albafica noticed his action, but the evident stony gaze (how they turned stormy before and dead later gave him a chill) was enough to prove him otherwise. Kardia stared back, clearly undaunted… and waiting for the other man’s retort.

But the stony gaze quickly fell into that of sorrow and grief. Albafica’s head hung low, and Kardia realized that he might have pushed the wrong topic. At any time, another Jedi might end up here, waiting to be treated, healed, or maybe said Jedi was already beyond reach—

"Knight Manigoldo," Albafica muttered. The name of his old friend, a rascal with his own legend in the times of their padawan years, brought back some memories. Most of them were fond enough for him to remember (although they did cross sabers out of petty fights from time to time, and even that was brought to end with smiles and laughters), enough to bring a small smile to the weakened Knight.

And apparently, a former crush to this aqua-haired man.

He dared not to speak, not when the weariness that clouded the healer’s Force-signature slowly descended to sorrow, which then spiraled into a mixture of emotions. This, broadcasted clearly from the healer’s mind, alerted the Knight; the three of them were friends—close friends, close enough to have the council frowned upon their camaraderie which bordered around attachment. If such emotions were being harbored…

The pain on his chest doubled, and he believed it was not due to his physical condition.

"…What happened while I was out?"

He knew he had pushed the wrong button, because Kardia certainly did not miss Albafica’s expression, contorting into something akin to pain and suffering before shifting back to a steeled one.

"Jabiim… We lost… and he…"

For a short moment, his mind came to a halt. War had brought many lives to untimely close, civilians or military alike. And yet, to have Albafica dropped the news… to imagine the sarcastic, cheeky Jedi Knight left them to fight the war to his death… Kardia could not bring himself to accept it. How many more must fall to this war? How many must rejoin with the Force without being able to see the end of this war?

Time resumed, at least what he perceived as Time, because he did not remember of pulling the grief-stricken healer to his lap and gently caressed his shoulder in a motion to calm his friend. The sound of Albafica’s sobs were quietly contained inside the room, for no amount of meditation would calm his raging emotion—at least not then; there was not time.

Yet the only thing that he could do was gently caressing the healer’s shoulders, offering the only comfort that he was capable of. The growing friendship between him, the healer, and the knight who died faraway from his home planet, must not become the center of darkness.

It was in this moment Kardia realized, with bitter recognition, that attachment is a fatal flaw; a flaw that turned the best of Jedi to a fate much worse than death. As the war raged all around them, their idealism faltered, slowly turning into twisted perception for some members.

 _But attachment can become their strength_.

His gaze wandered away from the room they were in as he wondered just how many more times he must watch his fellow comrades died, or turned from the very ideals that they believed before the war ended.

Kardia shook his head and ushered the grim thought away, so that his attention was on his friend. The Knight would let him be, grieving like a human should, during this time of war. It was a moment to acknowledge the attachment that existed between them—between him, this person, and the man who had rejoined with the Force. It was not the time to conflict with The Code that he always abhor (denying attachment is like denying part of himself—and as far as he lived, he still believed that denial itself was the root cause of anybody’s turning). It was time to mourn, even if there was no time.

They had to make the time, for he knew that his friend was dangerously treading between light and dark—so Kardia would be his anchor, soothing this man who was about to fall prey to the Dark.

He could not afford to lose another friend, for he feared that he might lose his way should this man fall.

_And fear of losing it became their greatest weakness._

**Author's Note:**

> Reference: [Battle of Jabiim](http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Battle_of_Jabiim_\(Clone_Wars\)).


End file.
